Sickpunks
by unavoidable-k
Summary: "I didn't think stitchpunks could get sick?" Oh how wrong you were, dear Nine.
1. Stitchpunks can't get sick, can they?

It wasn't often that a storm hit, but when it did, it hit hard.

It also wasn't often that everyone managed to get stuck outside in the rain, but apparently fate wasn't working in their favour.

"I told you it was going to rain! Didn't I tell you? I told you."

The angry grumbling of One could be heard all over the Library at this point. The group of stitchpunks had finally returned home after a long trip. Actually, the trip wouldn't have taken so long if the rain had kept away for at least an hour or so. Unfortunately, it didn't work out that way and the entire group were soaked to the bone.

"It was just a simple mistake, One. Calm down already." Seven had removed her helmet and was shaking it dry. One merely huffed at this statement, too tired and wet to fight back. Once she was satisfied, she placed her helmet down and went to help the twins squeeze the water from their hoods. They both looked rather displeased at the sudden downpour and Seven had to giggle at their pouty expressions.

Five had managed to find several rags to use as towels and were giving them out. Despite not being in the best of moods, he couldn't help his concern for the others.

"Are you going to be okay, Two?" He asked, worriedly. Two took the rag and smiled appreciatively. "I'm sure I'll be fine. A little rain never hurt anybody." He joked. Five gave an uneasy smile. "You say that, but I don't want anybody getting sick..." He trailed, nervously.

"Stitchpunks can get sick?"

Nine had piped up, midway through drying his arms. His fabric looked a tiny shade darker but it wasn't much of a difference compared to those with lighter fabric. "I didn't think we could get sick." He commented. "It doesn't happen often, but it is possible. After being out in the rain like this, it's very likely that we'll catch something." He explained. Nine raised a stitched brow. "But...we're not humans. We're not organic or anything, so how do we catch things?"

"It's like...a period of malfunctioning. Say you've been out in wet weather without proper protection, as we've been. Our gears are bound to start acting up and we'll malfunction for a short while until our body fixes itself. It's similar to getting ill in that way." Five explained, using his vast knowledge of the stitchpunk anatomy. Two smiled widely, clearly pleased by his assistants knowledge. Nine looked down at his rag.

"So it's possible we're going to get sick?" He asked. Five sighed. "Unless we get a fire going and get ourselves warm and dry before it sets, then yes." Nine scrubbed as much water as he could from his body, before tossing the rag aside. "I'll help you." He said, dashing off to grab something burnable.

It didn't take long for them to set up the fire and once they ignited it, it sent a wave of heat through the room. Soon enough, everyone was sat around the fire, basking in it's warmth. Nine was so tired, he felt like he was going to fall asleep on the spot.

"Well, despite the sudden rain, I'd call this trip a success, wouldn't you?" Two piped up, quite cheerfully. One looked too exhausted to fight back, as he had been earlier. "What did everyone find?" He asked, looking around the entire group.

"I found more fabric, although it'll take some time for it all to dry out..." Five replied, though the last past sounded unsure. "Found some sharp things." Eight muttered. He seemed to be rather vague about his answer but noone pushed it. "Six found some-...Six?"

All eyes were on Six, who had a rather disturbingly blank look around him. He was staring at the fire, face void of any emotion. Eight gently shook his shoulder, trying to grab his attention. "Six...? You okay?" He asked slowly. Six looked up at him with the same expression, before turning back to the fire.

"Is he...alright?" Two asked, expressing concern. Eight leant over to check his face. His optics just seemed totally blank...

Until they widened suddenly. The smaller stitchpunk opened his mouth, taking in a huge gulp of air and his face seemed suddenly panicked. Eight flinched, knowing what was going to happen, and quickly shoved his hand in front of Six's mouth, barely in time.

A sudden wave of black liquid erupted from his mouth and around Eight's fingers. The rest either flinched or yelled in surprise, keeping their distance from him. Eight quickly pulled him up and hurried him somewhere else; anywhere else, before he hurled again. His mouth was stretched into a straight line; optics dilated. He didn't look typically disgusted, it was more or less a constant look of surprise. He ended up taking Six to his room and letting him throw up into a nearby metal container, leaving the group to watch in disgust.

"Well that's one. It's only a matter of time before it catches up to the rest of us now." One stated, pessimistically. "It might not work out that way, One. No need to be so negative." Two said, although he didn't sound too sure either. He looked up to the group. "Anybody else feel a little off?" It was met by a collective shaking of heads.

Or maybe not. Seven felt something tugging at her shoulder and she turned her head to see a fearful look coming from Three. Her entire expression screamed 'I think I'm gonna vomit' and Seven sighed, standing up. "C'mon, then. You too, Four." She said, leading the twins back to their room. Four shrugged indifferently. She felt fine but she feared it wouldn't last for long.

"Oh...dear." Two sighed. "You might be right about that." He said, nudging One lightly. Everone had seemed to edge away from one another, fearing they'd catch something they already had.

Five stood up. "I think I should head back. If anyone else feels sick, I can get some stuff ready. Besides, I don't think I feel so great." Nine took this moment to stand up. "I'll come too. I feel fine but I'm really tired. I might just fall asleep on the floor at this rate." He joked, in an attempt to lighten the mood. It didn't seem to work. They left, leaving the two elders sitting by the fire.

"If I get sick because of today, you're wholly to blame." One grumbled. Two chuckled. "Yes I know and if that were to happen, I apologise in advance." He said with a smile. One huffed. "Too late for apologies. If I happen to get sick, then you're going to have to look after me." He smirked. "It's the least you could do." Two raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? Well I don't know what you have in mind but I'm sure I'll be preoccupied with my own health." He retorted playfully. One rolled his optics. "No point staying up. I'm heading to bed, as should you."

"Very well. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."


	2. Well, apparently they can

The next morning was, for lack of a better term, hell.

Nine woke up and after three seconds, he wished he hadn't. His head throbbed and it felt like he'd been punched in the gut by Eight. His neck and shoulders felt stiff and his back was no better. This was his first time being sick and he wasn't impressed.

He shifted over, catching a glimpse of Five lying in his own bed. He didn't look much better either. He was curled up into a ball, optics closed tightly and lips formed into a straight line. Beside his bed was what used to be a tin for carrying mints, full of some liquid that he didn't want to see. It appeared that Five had woken up before him, but had fallen asleep once more.

He sat up slowly, resting against the wall behind in and scanned the room. Two was lying in his own bed, which was unsual. (It was no secret that he often opted to sleep with One but nobody dare mention it for fear of One's wrath). It didn't look like the elder was faring much better either. He was curled in the same postion as Five but his blanket had been pulled up to cover his face. His feet were peeking out from underneath the blanket, shifting uncomfortably.

He glanced back at Five and decided to lie back down, lest he decided to blow chunks all over his one-eyed friend. He chuckled softly at the mental image and drifted off into an internal poll; who would be the best stitchpunk to puke on.

One was his immediate first choice and the very thought of it made him want to laugh out loud. Seven would be at the bottom of the list. He didn't feel it was worth embarrassing himself like that. After about ten minutes, he concluded that merely thinking about being sick wasn't going to help him. He rolled onto his side, to see Five had awoke.

"Morning Nine." The cyclops croaked out. He sounded exhausted and ready to die on the spot. Nine gave him a half-smile in return. "Hey, Five. How are you feeling?" He asked. Five's optics drooped. "Take a wild guess." He retorted with a weak chuckle. He rolled over onto his back and sighed deeply.

"I don't think any of us got away this time. We're all suffering." He lamented aloud. Nine sat up again and sat against the wall, holding his aching stomach. "Is everyone sick?" He asked, to clarify. Five merely shrugged. "I'm not sure. If you want to find out, you could go and check on them but I'd be worried about your own health if I were you. By the way, the buckets over there if you wanna hurl." He finished with a groan and closed his tired optics.

Nine hated sitting around with nothing to do, despite feeling as ill as he was. He felt an air of mischief come over him and wondered if visiting One was a good idea. His stomach churned in distress as he sat upright, carefully shifting his legs off the bed. Maybe he should take something with him, in case he was sick.

He eventually decided against it and quietly left the room as Five wished him luck.

His first destination was One. He was sure the elder wouldn't be pleased to see the youngest of the group this early in the morning, but if he was ill then he'd be too tired to fight back. Nonetheless, Nine still felt concern for him and the rest of the stitchpunks and vowed to check on them as well.

One's room was right on the other side of the Library and, as expected, he was huddled under his blankets on the bed. It was dark inside the room and quite cool, which made Nine feel a bit better. Apparently he was already awake because three seconds after Nine had opened the door, he heard his voice.

"What do you want?" He spoke bluntly and his voice sounded like gravel. A lot more coarse than usual. Nine suspected that was due to the illness. "I just came to check on you, is all." He replied softly, padding towards his bed. Upon hearing the footsteps, the elder rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows. He didn't look happy in the least.

"How are you feeling, One?" Nine asked, politely.

"Take a wild stab in the dark, why don't you." He responded, sarcastically. "Because that's exactly what you'll be getting if you keep bothering me." He spat, but it didn't sound as menacing as he'd liked. Nine shrugged and sat down on his bed, earning a groan of protest.

"You've been sick before, right? How long does it last?" He asked, still as curious as ever. One sighed, accepting the fact that he wouldn't be able to get rid of the younger stitchpunk for a while. "Only a couple of days. Never more than a week unless it's deadly." He said simply. He sat back against the wall, clasping his hands together and closing his optics.

"You okay?" He asked again. Maybe this time he'd get a proper response.

"I've been better." He replied, quite casually, "And yourself?" Nine shifted to face him. "I only woke up about fifteen minutes ago and nearly threw up over Five." He responded. One cracked the tiniest smile of amusement. "Is Two in there with you as well?" He asked, feigning idle curiosity. Nine gave him a knowing smirk. "Yeah, he's with us. He wasn't awake when I woke up though. Why, does the bed feel colder without him?" He teased with a grin. One scowled and Nine felt rather satisfied.

"I was just wondering. He has a tendency to overwork himself, especially when he's ill. I just wanted to know if he was attempting anything stupid." He murmured. "Keep an eye on him, won't you?" Nine nodded, suddenly feeling his stomach shift uncomfortably. "Better yet, I can send him down here. You can keep an eye on him yourself." He teased again, but his stomach seemed to be restless and his grin didn't last long. One simply rolled his eyes at the comment but didn't say anything.

After a few minutes of silence the elder spoke up. "You should be getting back to bed. Creator knows you and Two are alike. Don't go running around, you hear?" He lifted his head up when he didn't get a response.

"Nine? Ni-!"

The youngers face was contorted in pain and his hand was clamped over his mouth. His optics showed panic and he looked fearful. One had only a few seconds to grab something, anything that could hold liquid before Nine practically erupted. The noise could be heard all over the Library.

"Hold it in! Hold it in!"

"I'm tryi- ugh..."

"Don't you DARE vomit on me!"

"It's not like I...Ohh..."

"Hold on, use thi-! Damn it, Nine! Seriously?!"

"S-Sorry..."

The twins, who were lying in bed at the time, both shifted to face Seven, who was resting on the bed beside them. Their expressions showed disgust and amusement. Seven snickered. "It's his first time being ill, isn't it? Well, better One looking after him than me." She said, and with that, she rolled over to her side. The twins let out a silent, half-hearted laugh.


	3. Sicks

Compared to Nine and One, Eight was having a much rougher time. It wasn't because of the illness. No, he was doing better than most stitchpunks in that area. He was a quick healer, always had been.

It was Six.

Six was by far the barfiest of the lot and since Eight was the least-sickest, he had to look after the poor striped stitchpunk. Six had already been kicked off the bed and was forced to sleep on the floor, until the worst of it had passed. There was no point washing the puke from his fabric anymore. He'd have to wait until Six was better before dunking him in the tub and neither of them were looking forward to it.

He had decided that sleeping in the same room would be easier for him to keep an eye on the smaller stitchpunk, so he'd brought him into his own bedroom. His bed was big enough for the two but, as previously mentioned, Six had been kicked from the bed and forced to sleep on the floor. He'd managed to find a small sheet of fabric that was somewhat waterproof for him to sleep on but it wouldn't do too much good.

The trouble with Six was, he didn't show any warnings when he was about to be sick. In fact, he seemed to be just as surprised by it as everyone else was. The lack of forewarning was...troublesome. He had to keep constantly on his guard, which was what he did best but he found this situation less than ideal. He shifted onto his side, his belly grumbling uncomfortably, and gazed at Six.

He was currently lying on his bed on the tarp Eight had found, snoring softly. He was pretty cute when he was sleeping. In fact, he was cute in general when he wasn't blowing chunks.] every half a minute. Eight had to feel sorry for him, though. The poor kid couldn't help it. He'd always had a weak stomach.

He remembered the first time he'd been sick. He'd been patrolling outside and, while slightly magnet-high, wondered off a little too far. A storm rolled in and he got stuck in the middle of it. Since he was technically still high when he got back, he couldn't remember much of what happened. All he could remember was keeling over and throwing up in a bucket while One rubbed his back sympathetically.

Although it wasn't really sympathetic. He just quietly berated him for being high while on guard but Eight was too out of it to tell.

That had been...one of the more embarrassing things to happen in his short life.

After that, he'd decided he didn't like being ill and the measures he resorted to, to avoid becoming ill were rather surprising, considering his naturally lax attitude. That also meant he stopped others becoming ill by stopping them from going out into the freezing cold without anything warm to wear *cough* Two *cough*.

He didn't realised how drowsy he'd became until he woke up maybe an hour or so later. Six was still sleeping peacefully (as one could be while ill) beside him. Maybe it was time to let him up onto the bed now? Just as the thought crossed his mind, the striped stitchpunk suddenly sat up.

"Six...? You okay?" He asked slowly. Six often sleepwalked and talking slowly was the only way to get him to understand. His eyes were wide and unblinking and he stared straight ahead. He nodded, although his expression was blank.

"You sure?"

Six's face suddenly contorted into a frown. He looked dissatisfied about something. Eight was momentarily confused before it hit him. "Oh jeez, don't tell me you're gonna be-!"

He wasn't even surprised when Six just suddenly upchucked all over his lap. He just sighed. He really needed some sleep. Maybe if any of the others were feeling better, they could take over for a bit.

After Six had stopped, the striped one looked up at the younger. He looked confused.

"You done?" Eight asked, propping himself up on his elbow. Six just shrugged, which wasn't the answer he was looking for. "It won't stop making noises..." He said, finally.

"What?"

"My tummy won't stop making funny noises." He sounded a little upset by this. "...and I'm cold." He complained, with a pouty face. Eight had to hold back laughter. One, because the stripy stitchpunk looked positively adorable when he was pouting and two, if he laughed he might throw up so he just had to swallow it down.

"I guess...I could let you sleep up here. But if you feel weird or feel like you're gonna be sick then say something. Or at least get it in the bucket."

Six's optics brightened at that. He seemed genuinely excited about getting to sleep in the bed, which made Eight feel a little guilty for kicking him out. He couldn't say no to that face.

He sighed, shifting backwards and patting the space in front of him. Six jumped up like an excited puppy and dove under the blankets. Eight hoped he wasn't going to regret this.

"Just face that way, okay? That way it'll be hard for you to miss the bucket, yeah?" He reache out and tugged the metal container closer to the bed. Six didn't seem to have a problem with this. He was just happy that he didn't have to camp on the floor.

"I'm still cold though." Six complained, impatiently. "Just wait. You've only just gotten under the blanket." Eight rolled his optics, hoping he would settle down soon.

"But I'm cold now!" He whined. Eight huffed. "What do you want me to do about it, huh?"

"Hug me!"

"...Do I have to? What if you puke again. I don't want it all over me again like last night."

"Please! It's not like you're gonna catch anything!"

"That's not the point I was making, Six, I just..."

It was useless arguing with him. Not to mention his stomach was groaning in protest. He sighed, shifting closer and draping an arm around the smaller one. Six wriggled and squirmed around for a minute or so before settling down and falling to sleep. Eight watched him, quite fondly.

"Just don't puke on me, ya hear?"


	4. This is embarrassing

The word 'hate' was never in the twins dictionary; metaphorically not literally. They knew what it meant but they never felt strongly about something to use it. It was a particularly powerful word and the twins were always very careful with words. To the twins, who were naturally not very violent, the word 'hate' was unnecessary.

But this was an exception.

They HATED being sick, above anything else.

Since the day they were created, all they did was run around, back and forth, looking for things of interest. They just couldn't sit still for even a minute. No matter how many times Seven would have them sit down, just for a minute, they'd grow fidgety and uncomfortable. They just had to be doing something, no matter what it was. By the end of each day, they'd be utterly exhausted.

But it wasn't the end of the day. It was late morning and they were exhausted anyway.

Three would lift her head up, just a fraction, only to have to bring it back down due to the throbbing pain that refused to go away. Four would turn on her back, just because she was feeling a little too warm, only to have to shift back over onto her side otherwise she'd hurl. Fidgeting alone shot aches and pains through their bodies and they hated every moment of it.

In these kinds of situations, they'd request a story from Seven. That was one of the ways to keep them in one spot for a good fifteen minutes or so. But looking over at the female warrior, sprawled in her bed, they didn't want to make her do something like that. Especially since she wasn't faring so great either.

Seven had a habit of not telling anybody what was wrong, whether it be a physical ailment or a problem with someone else. She was too focused on other people to worry about herself, which was a huge cause for concern. The twins knew that she had them, along with Nine, Five and the others to look out for her but sometimes that wasn't enough. They almost had top physically stop her leaving the room to check on everyone else, pushing her down on the bed and demanding she gets her rest. She was like them in that aspect, she hated sitting around with nothing to do. She was often paranoid that there was something nearby, lurking in the shadows, waiting to attack her and her family. The twins guessed that it was in her 'warrior' nature but it was often hard to convince her otherwise.

At least they had a good protector there for them.

Three opened her optics and sighed silently. Four was lying next to her, barely clinging onto consciousness and Seven was on the bed next to theirs, sleeping silently. There was nothing to do. Sitting upright made her feel queasy, reading hurt her optics and right now she was ready to embrace the sweet release of death. She knew she was being melodramatic but she felt she had a right to be. All sick people had a right to be dramatic.

She huffed once more. There wasn't much to do aside from sleep and feel sorry for herself. She looked at the sleeping forms or her sister and Seven and she got an idea.  
She pulled herself out of bed, trying to keep everything down and hovered over Seven for a minute. She was laying on her back, her arms positioned so her hands were beside her head. The twins rarely saw her sleeping. She looked...nice.

Fortunately for Three, Seven was in the perfect position for her to carry out her little prank. Very, very carefully, she undid the knots on Sevens front and very gently opened her up. It didn't take long for her to find what she was looking for.  
Her voicebox.

When Three and Four were created, they were too fast, too busy to let the creator implant their voiceboxes, so they went without. They didn't mind too much. The flickering of optics were their own special language and it was one of the things they valued the most.  
But it didn't mean she wasn't curious about speaking.

When she brought the topic up with her sister, it was shot down. Four liked what they had together and although they were both masters of words, they appreciated being understood without the use of words. Despise that, Three took this as a chance to test it out. She wasn't going anywhere so she might as well have some fun, right?

She carefully disconnected the warriors voicebox and removed it. It was a rather light contraption, commonly found in dolls and other toys. She opened herself up and moved the voicebox over her the opening in throat. It was hard to get the positioning correct when you couldn't see it for yourself but after a few attempts, she managed to slot it in.

She made some noises quietly, twisting and turning the voicebox to get the right alignment.  
"Hm..."

It was really weird. It felt like it was vibrating in her throat and it felt really heavy. It was a totally surreal feeling.

"Seven." She spoke. It was high-pitched and airy and she decided that she liked it. Maybe she should try this more often. It would give the others a good scare. She giggled at the thought.  
"Four..." She looked back to her sister. Four would be...displeased at Three's act but would find it hilarious eventually. She laughed again. "Three." She finished, saying her own name with satisfaction. It sounded nice coming from her own mouth.

"...?"

She didn't need to hear a voice to know Seven had woken up. She whirled around, and recoiled upon seeing Seven's confused face. It wasn't just confusion either. It was fear. She grasped at her throat, screaming silently at Three, demanding to know why she couldn't speak.  
Everything happened so fast after that.

"I-I...!" She could only stutter but even that was enough for Seven to figure out where her missing voicebox had gone. She wouldn't have minded lending her voicebox temporarily if Three had just asked and it wasn't like she was mad anyway but she was ill and rather irritable. Her expression changed from confusion to grim realisation.

Three took a step back and a single glance at Seven's face made her stomach lurch. It was kind of like lowkey betrayal. She was already tense enough when she was removing the voicebox and mixed along with the feeling of nausea you get when you get in trouble didn't help.

Mix all that with actually being ill and it didn't end well.

Three felt her stomach jolt and before she could stop herself, she ended up throwing up on Seven's bed. It was partially the illness and partially fear and she couldn't stop trembling. Seven was gonna be really mad. She lifted up a shaky hand to disconnect the voicebox inside her throat and handed it over to Seven, not daring to look her in the face. She had to clean this up.

She stared at her feet while Seven was adjusting her voicebox. She heard a crackle and...  
...was she laughing?

Her head snapped up to see Seven holding back her mirth, which didn't last long. She let out a loud laugh and Three felt almost offended. She turned her head to the shuffling behind her to see her sister has broken out in silent hysterical laughter.

This was embarrassing. Not only had she stolen Seven's voicebox, but she was caught by Seven herself and ended up vomiting on her bed and now they were laughing at her. She pouted, despite the grumbling in her tummy. After the laughter had died down, Seven dragged herself out of bed.  
"Well, since my bed's ruined for the time being, I'm gonna have to sleep with you guys. Budge over Four." She demanded, playfully. Four reluctantly rolled over to the edge to allow space for Three and Seven. Three was still pouting but was shoved in the bed anyway. The three spent the rest of the day curled up beside each other, still chuckling quietly at Three.

They couldn't wait to tell the others.


End file.
